Under cover
by EyesOnly-with-wifi
Summary: Harold leaves Root and Shaw to locate their latest number by themselves. Started off as Shoot fluff but became a mission fic.


"You've got to be kidding me, Finch."

"Tragically, no. you and Miss Groves are the only ones who can infiltrate the organisation without drawing too much attention to yourselves."

"But three hours – on a train – with Root! I'd rather go up against a load of Samaritan operatives, that way I get to at least shoot some people."

Root tossed her hair, "Sweetie, if you're good I promise you can shoot as many people you want on our next mission."

Shaw scowled. "You see what I have to deal with?" she asked Harold.

He handed her two train tickets. "Try not to kill each other."

"I'm not making any promises," said Shaw, holstering her gun.

Root laughed. "See you soon, Harry."

…..

"Tickets!" shouted the conductor. Shaw elbowed Root who had fallen asleep with her head against the window.

"Huh?" Root asked blearily.

"Tickets," repeated Shaw. Root rifled through her purse and presented the tickets to the conductor, before settling more comfortably in her seat. Root enjoyed working for the Machine, but sometimes it got lonely, always on the run, never the same person for more than a day. But not with Shaw. Whenever she was with Shaw she was simply Root – not exactly good or bad, but that didn't matter. On this train she could almost be a regular woman, not a reformed killer-for-hire turned hacker turned Analog Interface for a higher power. For three hours she could be a normal person travelling with her little firecracker of a girlfriend. A person who hadn't…

"Hey," whispered Shaw when she noticed Root's hands were clenched in fists and her eyes were distant. The hacker snapped back into the present and tried for her signature flirtatious smirk, but didn't quite manage it.

Most of the other people on the train were either asleep or working and Shaw didn't want to disturb them but there was no way Root was going to be able to sleep so she came up with a plan. She pulled her phone and earphones out of her purse, put them in and selected shuffle on her music. She began mouthing the lyrics and Root visibly relaxed as she focused on Shaw's lip patterns. When it got to the chorus Root whispered, "shake it off."

Shaw nodded.

"I didn't have you down as a Taylor Swift fan," said Root.

Shaw rolled her eyes, but for once didn't look on the verge of shooting someone.

Halfway through Shaw's playlist Root grabbed the phone. "It's your turn, Sameen."

"I can't read lips," protested Shaw.

"You don't have to." Root scrolled through the playlist and eventually selected one. Looking at Shaw, she waited for her to name the song.

"Set fire to the rain," said Shaw after a few seconds.

"Correct!" smiled Root, back to her old self. She yawned and looked at her watch.

"You tired?" asked Shaw. Root nodded, and Shaw took out one earphone and offered it to Root, who gratefully accepted it.

…..

"Last station stop!" announced the conductor.

Shaw woke up to see Root's head resting on her shoulder, snoring quietly.

"Root, wake up," she said, before realising the other woman couldn't hear her. Taking the earphone out of Root's left ear Shaw tried again. "Wake up."

…..

When they arrived at the hotel, Root and Shaw slipped into the bathroom to change. Root donned a slinky floor-length red dress and was in the process of tying up her hair when Shaw emerged wearing a strapless black cocktail dress and three-inch heels. "If you tell anybody about this I will end you," muttered Shaw, struggling to walk over to the sink.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sweetie." Root was sweeping her hair into a bun when Shaw's hands suddenly covered her own. Shaw gently ran a finger down the scar behind Root's deaf ear.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes." Root shivered slightly at her touch.

Shaw cleared her throat. "We should call Finch." She released Root's hands and got out her phone. "We're ready to roll. Are you sure there's nobody I can shoot?" Shaw hung up a few seconds later and led Root up a staircase to a balcony filled with equally glamorous-looking women. Shaw expertly lifted two glasses of champagne off a tray, handed one to Root and stood in the corner of the balcony overlooking a meeting between a load of people in suits who didn't look too agreeable. Leaning closer to Root's good ear she whispered, "Finch needs to find out what the guy in the green suit is saying. Can you read his lips?"

"I can try." Root focused on his lips but couldn't make out much from so far away. But she did catch one unmistakable word – Samaritan. The man casually moved his hand inside his jacket, and she caught sight of something black and metallic. "He's got a gun," she whispered.

"They probably all have," replied Shaw. The guy in the green suit pulled out his gun and shot one of the men, as a few of the glamorous women pulled guns out of their purses and trained them on various members of the meeting.

"Time to go," decided Root, herding Shaw out of a nearby door. "I take it green suit guy is our number?" she asked, leading Shaw down a staircase.

"Yeah. Still trying to work out if he's a victim or a perp. Hey, where are we going?"

"If I remember rightly this leads to the conference room. I was here once before with an embassy, long story. Here we are." She pushed open both double doors and emerged into the conference room, where a lot more firearms had appeared. "Looks like you might get to shoot somebody after all."

"Now you're talking." Shaw pulled out her gun and trained it on their number. "You're coming with us."

Green Suit Guy pointed his gun at Root. "No."

Root held up her hands in surrender and the guy, convinced he was in the position of power, let his guard down. Root twisted his arm behind him, grabbed his gun and frogmarched him into the hallway where she zip-tied him to the radiator, all in the space of two seconds. "Tell us what we need to know, and my friend and I will leave you alone."

Shaw pointed her gun at his left kneecap. "What do you know about Samaritan?"

The guy squirmed. "It's an AI, I know that much. I tried to tell them it was wrong and now they want to kill me!"

"He's telling the truth, far as I can tell," said Root. Shaw indicated to the zip-tie with her gun and Root released him. Together, they led him to the back exit.

"Finch," said Shaw turning on her earpiece. "We've got the number. He claims Samaritan is trying to kill him."

"Can you get him back here? There's quite a lot he could tell us and it will be safer." Her earpiece beeped, signalling Harold had hung up.

"We gotta get him back to the subway station," said Shaw. "Can you get us a ride?"

"Already on it." Root knelt by a nearby car and let out a triumphant cry. Shaw got in the driver's seat, her facial expression challenging anybody to argue with her. She floored the ignition and drove like a maniac back to their hideout.

…..

"Thanks for saving my life and all, but who are you people?" asked the number, whose name they had learned was Abe.

"Concerned citizens with good connections," replied Harold. After a pause long enough to indicate the conversation had ended, Harold tidied up his desk and Shaw went into the carriage to clean her gun.

"Excuse me, Miss…" Abe faltered, realising he didn't actually know her name.

"Call me Root."

"It's quite the operation you guys have here, Root."

"We're good at what we do." Root froze and whispered, "I hear you." something about her demeanour changed as she grabbed her leather jacket and gun.

"Harry!" she shouted over her shoulder on her way out. "Abe and I are going on a field trip."

She took Abe's arm and led him down an ominous alleyway. "Shouldn't we be, you know, back there where it's safe?" stuttered Abe.

Root spun round and fired two shots. The man who had been following them was on the floor groaning in pain before Abe even had time to react. Root winked at the nearest CCTV camera before turning her attention back to Abe.

"My boss has other plans. Trust me."

And, strangely enough, he did. Although slightly crazy this woman did seem highly capable. "Wallet." Root held her hand out with such conviction that he didn't dare argue. She got out fifty dollars, pocketed the money then led the way to another musterious location.

"Where are we going?"

"No idea." Root walked up to a man of a similar build to Abe. "Hi, will you swap jackets with my friend for ten dollars? Thanks."

The man obliged, and Abe felt the need to ask, "What was that about?"

"To keep the three Samaritan operatives following us off your trail for the time being." She glanced around and picked up her pace. "We need to keep moving." A few minutes later Root paused by an ATM and began typing in a long string of numbers. It dispensed several crisp hundred dollar bills and she handed them to Abe. He stared at them in confusion as Root hailed a cab. "Get the next flight to Ontario, and by the time you land you'll have an email with your new identity. Good luck."

"What? I don't…" stuttered Abe. Root sighed and opened the cab door, pushing him in. He turned back to ask her something, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Ummm….the airport, please."

…..

"How's it hanging, Sameen?" Root breezed into the subway and presented the shorter woman with a forty dollar steak.

"You kidnapped our number," growled Shaw around a mouthful of steak.

"He's perfectly safe and on his way to starting a new life in Ontario."

Shaw looked dubious. "I hope that eye in the sky of yours knows that it's doing."

Root turned unexpectedly serious. "She won't let us down, Sameen."


End file.
